


Day 2 - write an emotion: anger

by emumfywrites



Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 - prompts, scenes & shorts [2]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Anger, Death, Emotion Study, Murder, NaNoWriMo, doesnt happen on page
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 20:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emumfywrites/pseuds/emumfywrites
Summary: when all you feel is fury, what will you do?
Series: NaNoWriMo 2019 - prompts, scenes & shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534589
Kudos: 1





	Day 2 - write an emotion: anger

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction and does not reference any living person, place, or thing. This is an emotion study. I picked a random emotion and wrote a scene about it, todays happened to be anger.

Day 2 - 500 words  
prompt - write an emotion: anger

She was furious. Hands shaking, gut roiling, breaths shortened, absolutely furious. He had done it again. After she explicitly told him not to. After their deep heart to heart. And here she was, faced with it happening again.

He wasn’t home. She been texted by a friend. Her fears confirmed, his transgressions laid bare. The recipient of her anger was nowhere in sight. He must have known it would come to light, and her full fury would be unleashed upon him.

With no one and no thing to release her anger upon, she was stuck. In a continued loop. Over and over replaying conversations, phrases, moments, this fury building with every second she ruminated.

The emotion was growing. Into a beast of its own making. No longer was it simply anger. She also felt injustice, unhappiness, sadness, rage, and so so so much more. Not everything has a name, not every feeling so easily catalogued. 

She paced around the room, a cat stalking her prey. She had no singular focus, so her steps were as uneven as her thoughts. Around and around she paced. Returning and leaving. Again and again and again.

New ideas formed while old thoughts reared their ugly heads. She was a bottle of carbonated drink being shaken. There would be no release, only a building sense of explosion.

Occasionally she’d get a text message. Hear the phone chime. If she looked her anger would boil up. If she didn’t look, her guilt and worry would eat away at her restraint until she did look. And then anger again.

This anger inside her, this beast of no name, threatened to take control. To do the irreparable damage she craved, but her restraint held firm.

She longed to scream, to run, to do anything to escape the rage she felt inside. But how does one run from their own mind?

She needed an outlet she realized. Some thing or some one to yell and scream at. Whether it was pillow or human became irrelevant, she needed an out. She needed it NOW.

Just then, she heard the scraping of a key. Of someone looking to enter her space. The knob turned, footsteps sounded. He turned the corner with flowers in hand and an insincere apology written on his face.

Her vision darkened at the edges. Her resolve wavered. He started to talk, and the ringing in her ears drowned out his lies. 

She reached her tipping point. The beast unleashed, and her fury sounded.

______

When she came to and fell back into her own mind, no longer an innocent bystander while the beast did its work, she was once again alone.

But no, that wasn’t right. He had never left. She shouldn’t be alone. He was still there, and a glance at the floor confirmed it. He was lying on his stomach unconscious. 

She lifted her hands and saw the knife in her right. Both had blood dripping off, landing on the still warm body at her feet. Where the knife had come from, she would never be able to pinpoint, but its presence implicated her. 

Her legs gave out underneath her and she sat down hard on the ground. Her hands were shaking as she leaned forward to place the knife on his body. She felt the blood seeping from the wound, to the carpet, into her pants.

She must’ve been in shock. Her whole being felt numb. How does one go from feeling everything at once to just… nothing? How does one cope?

There were a thousand things she could have done in those moments. Call the police. Call a friend. Wash your hands. But instead she just sat.

Alone in her living room, on the carpeted floor, the dead body of her making beside her, but she couldn’t get up. She couldn’t leave because she finally, finally had her blessed silence. 

Her once rabid mind was quiet. The beast back in the cage, licking its paws satisfactorily.

She must’ve been off, she must’ve been insane, but oh how she’d craved this silence. And she knew in time the emotions would return. She would feel the guilt, she would become the rage once more.

For now, she just wanted the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this is entirely fictional and does not reflect my thoughts or feelings. This is just my attempt at writing down what anger feels like.


End file.
